Chapter 39

The vaulted ceiling of the Hogwarts Great Hall had been enchanted for the celebration, and silver and green stars revolved lazily overhead—a victory backdrop clearly prepared for Slytherin. Hailey poked at the beef curry on her plate with a silver knife. The chunks of potato had rolled into little golden balls in the sauce. It was a recipe she and Eileen had pestered the kitchen House-elves into improving yesterday, with two extra spoonfuls of Sichuan peppercorns added especially. Now the numbing sensation was creeping from the tip of her tongue toward her temples.

"Eileen, don't you think today's pumpkin juice is a little sour?" Hailey spooned some curry over her rice. The grains were Thai jasmine rice she had brought from home and kept for a whole week with a magical Warming Charm her father had improved. "Did the House-elves put in lemon juice instead of syrup?"

Eileen's panda hair clip was stained with curry, and she was cutting her beef into neat cubes with the tip of her wand. "Who cares? It tastes better than last week's Rock Cakes, anyway." She suddenly lowered her voice, her nautilus earrings jingling as they swayed. "Look how pleased Malfoy is with himself. His chin's practically pointing at the ceiling, as if his name were already engraved on the House Cup."

Hailey followed her gaze. Sure enough, the Slytherin table was in an uproar of celebration. Draco Malfoy speared a piece of roast chicken with his silver fork and deliberately waved it toward Gryffindor, drawing a burst of laughter from the Slytherin students around him. At the Gryffindor table, Ron was squeezing bread into a ball, while Harry's fingers absently rubbed a model of the Nimbus 2000-a souvenir Captain Wood had given him. Dust brought out of the chamber still marked the tablecloth.

"They took so many points from us. There's no way we can catch up." Hermione sounded dejected. The stars she had drawn in vibranium ink on her open "History of Magic final exam highlights" were glowing faintly. "I worked it out three times. Even if we all get full marks today, we'll still be forty points behind Slytherin."

Hailey's vibranium bracelet suddenly trembled. She looked down and saw that a few stone chips from the chamber were still lodged in its gear patterns. Ever since she had left the hospital wing, the bracelet had been like a rusty hinge, always stiff when it turned. The maintenance manual her father had sent said this was "normal fatigue following the impact of Dark Magic" and that it needed to be wiped with powdered phoenix feather—but everyone at school knew phoenix tail feathers were even harder to get than dragon liver.

"Never mind the points." Hailey picked up a piece of potato for her plate. "Try this. I secretly added some of that potions-grade turmeric powder of yours. They say it improves your memory, but to me it just tastes like Mum's curry."

Eileen immediately nodded vigorously, the gems on her panda hair clip flashing red. "Really? You added it?! My mum says curcumin is known as 'magical brain gold,' and it's ten times gentler than Baruffio's Brain Elixir. But don't tell Professor Snape. If he finds out we've been using Potions ingredients as seasoning, he'll melt my cauldron down into a spoon."

As they spoke, Dumbledore's silver beard suddenly appeared at the end of the table. The old headmaster leisurely polished his glasses while moonlight shone through the stained glass, casting rainbow-colored patches of light on his half-moon lenses. The Great Hall fell silent at once. Even the snickering from Slytherin seemed to have been silenced by a Silencing Charm, leaving only the soft clink of cutlery.

Professor McGonagall's fingertips hovered over Gryffindor's score display, the motion like a caress for a wounded falcon. Hailey noticed a little chalk dust on her cuffs. She had clearly hurried over from the classroom, and half a "Transfiguration final grading sheet" was visible at the edge of her lesson plan, with a hasty five-pointed star drawn after Harry's name.

"Before we award the House Cup," Dumbledore said, his voice like hot tea steeped in honey as it echoed leisurely beneath the vaulted ceiling, "I believe we still have some points to adjust."

A ripple of suppressed snickering came from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy tapped his silver goblet with the tip of his wand, making a regular ding, ding, as if counting down the seconds to victory. Hailey's knife suddenly screeched against her plate. She saw the vibranium pocket watch her father had given her slip out of her robe pocket, the words engraved inside its cover-"Every gear has its place"-gleaming coldly in the candlelight.

"Miss Hermione Granger," Dumbledore suddenly raised his voice, his blue eyes shining like two cold stars behind his lenses, "the composure and wisdom you displayed in the face of Devil's Snare are worth fifty points-fifty points to Hufflepuff!"

Hermione's head shot up, a little curry still staining her curls, and her mouth fell open wide enough to fit an egg. The Gryffindor table erupted in a brief cheer, then fell into uneasy silence again-fifty points was nowhere near enough. Hailey's vibranium bracelet, however, gave a little jump, as if a fine needle had suddenly nudged a gear into place.

"Ron, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore continued, drawing a miniature chessboard in the air with his finger, "for the strategic vision and spirit of sacrifice you displayed in your game of Wizard's Chess, fifty points-fifty points to Gryffindor!"

Ron's face turned beetroot red in an instant, and the ball of bread in his hand dropped to the floor with a plop. Fred and George let out a loud whistle, only to be silenced by a glare from Percy—his Prefect Badge flashed on his chest like a warning light.

"Mr. Harry Potter." The old headmaster's voice suddenly grew solemn, his silver beard swaying gently over his chest. "For your courage in facing the darkness and your determination to protect the Philosopher's Stone, sixty points-sixty points to Gryffindor!"

This time, Gryffindor's cheers shook the chandeliers. Harry's green eyes were wide as saucers, and his fingers clutched the tablecloth so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Hailey noticed that his cuff was still wrapped in a bandage, covering the injury where Quirrell had scratched him in the chamber. Madam Pomfrey had said that kind of Dark Magic wound would leave a scar for at least a month.

Faces at the Slytherin table had grown very ugly. Draco Malfoy's silver fork scraped a tangle of marks into his plate, like an angry cat sharpening its claws. Hailey quietly nudged Eileen's arm and found that her friend's palms were slick with sweat. The gems on her panda hair clip flashed with her heartbeat.

"And Mr. Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore said, suddenly turning to the boy who was always shrinking into a corner, "the courage to stand up to one's friends is often harder to come by than the courage to stand against one's enemies-ten points, ten points to Gryffindor!"

Neville's mouth trembled, and he nearly spilled his pumpkin juice down his front. Seamus, beside him, pounded him on the back so hard he nearly made him choke. Hailey counted the numbers jumping on the score display. Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points, only ten points short of Slytherin's four hundred and seventy-two-the air in the entire Great Hall seemed to have been struck by a Freezing Charm.

The Slytherin students began whispering among themselves. Pansy Parkinson calculated furiously on a piece of parchment, her quill tip almost piercing the page. Hailey's vibranium pocket watch suddenly gave a soft click. She looked up sharply and saw Dumbledore smiling toward her and Eileen, his expression just like her father's when he had perfected a device in the attic.

"Lastly," the old headmaster said, clearing his throat as the silver and green stars on the ceiling suddenly paused, "I would like to commend two young witches from Hufflepuff."

Every eye swung toward Hailey and Eileen. Eileen's face went white, and her wand fell from her hand with a clatter, rolling under the Slytherin table-Draco Malfoy kicked it back with a look of disgust.

"Hailey, Miss Leicester, and Eileen, Miss Roniel." Dumbledore raised his wand, and turmeric-yellow sparks burst from its tip, looking just like the powder on Eileen's hair clip. "The cross-dimensional wisdom and tactical teamwork you displayed in standing against the darkness, especially the defensive net you constructed with vibranium equipment and spice magic, as well as those words, 'Moving forward despite your fear is true courage'-" He suddenly imitated what Hailey had shouted in the chamber, reproducing her tone perfectly. "Are worth a reward of fifty points each!"

A deathly silence fell over the Great Hall. Even the candle flames forgot to flicker. Hailey's ears rang as she watched Hufflepuff's number on the score display jump from two hundred and thirteen to three hundred and thirteen, while Gryffindor's four hundred and seventy-two points edged past Slytherin's four hundred and seventy-two-by just one point.

"And so," Dumbledore's voice suddenly soared, like a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds, "Gryffindor House, with a total of four hundred and eighty-two points, wins this year's House Cup!"

The whole Great Hall was as if a joy bomb had gone off inside it. Gryffindor students leaped onto the table. Percy Weasley excitedly tore off his Prefect Badge and tossed it into the air, while Fred and George surrounded Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville and threw them into the air like sacks. Scarlet fireworks suddenly exploded across the silver and green ceiling. Hundreds of golden flying lions burst from the beams of light and darted nimbly between the tables. One of them even snatched away Malfoy's silver napkin.

The Slytherin table, meanwhile, looked as though it had been struck by Petrificus Totalus. Draco Malfoy's face shifted between green and white, and the silver goblet in his hand crumpled out of shape. Professor Snape's black robes stirred without a breeze, his lips pressed into a straight line beneath his hooked nose. His gaze was cold enough to freeze a boiling cauldron, but under the look Dumbledore gave him, he forcibly swallowed the anger on the tip of his tongue.

At the Hufflepuff table, the silence lasted only two seconds.

"We're not in last place anymore!" A boy in round glasses suddenly stood up and shouted, raising his cup of pumpkin juice. His wizard's robes were still smeared with dirt from tending Mandrakes that afternoon. His words were like a match dropped into a powder keg. The whole Hufflepuff table erupted in deafening cheers. Some students pounded the table and shouted, "How does it feel to come second, Slytherin?" Others tore bread into little pieces and threw them into the air, shouting, "Three hundred and thirteen points! We've got three hundred and thirteen points!"

"Hailey! Eileen!"

The cries began at the end of the table and traveled along it like a relay baton. Hailey had just been pulled into the arms of the older girl beside her, who mussed her hair, when she saw three boys lift Eileen and toss her into the air. Turmeric powder sifted from her panda hair clip and landed on a pumpkin lantern, setting off a string of miniature sparks and drawing laughter from those nearby.

"Look at Neville!" Eileen grabbed Hailey's arm as she landed and pointed toward Gryffindor. "He's actually high-fiving Harry!"

Hailey looked over and, sure enough, saw Neville, red-faced, awkwardly high-fiving Harry while Ron doubled over with laughter beside them. Hermione was surrounded by a group of girls, still clutching her "History of Magic final exam highlights" tightly in her hand. The stars drawn in vibranium ink sparkled amid the cheering.

Just then, Professor Sprout suddenly tapped the lectern with her wand, her voice three pitches brighter than usual. "Quiet, my little badgers!" Bits of grass were still lodged under her nails; she had clearly hurried over from the greenhouse, and a few Mandrake leaves clung to the hem of her robes.

But nobody listened. Instead, someone arranged bread crumbs into the number "100" on the tabletop, then tapped them with a wand. The crumbs suddenly rose and became a miniature pyramid. Another boy put the Sorting Hat on a pumpkin and pinched his voice as he imitated Dumbledore: "Hufflepuff's gears have finally clicked into place!"

Professor Sprout shook her head helplessly, then suddenly pulled a burlap pouch from her robe pocket and scattered its contents into the air. Countless plump pumpkin seeds fell like shooting stars onto the students' plates, instantly growing into fist-sized miniature pumpkins. On each pumpkin, vines spelled out "Congratulations."

"Do you know?" She walked over to Hailey and Eileen and gently patted their shoulders with her rough palms. "When I was young, I always thought Hufflepuff ought to be like Mandrakes, quietly putting down roots. But today I realized we can be like vibranium gears, too. When it's time to shine, we won't hide away!"

Hailey's vibranium bracelet suddenly gave a crisp click. She looked down to see the topmost gear finally make one smooth revolution, shaking loose the stone chips trapped inside. Eileen's panda hair clip flashed too, and in the light of the pumpkin lanterns, the turmeric powder looked like a scattering of gold dust.

Professor Sprout suddenly reached into the backpack inside her apron and produced two clay pots, each planted with silvery mint. "This is 'lucky clover.' Have a sniff when you're staying up late doing experiments. It works better than an Invigoration Charm." Hailey recognized the tiny badger-shaped crests carved around the rims of the pots. They had been fired from clay mixed with vibranium powder-clearly prepared in advance.

"Professor, were these made with the vibranium scraps my dad sent?" Hailey couldn't help asking. She brushed her fingertips against the rim of a pot, and the metal's coolness reached her through them.

Professor Sprout blinked, a sly smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. "Mr. Leicester sent them by owl last week. He said they were 'gifts for the most hardworking little badgers.' He also enclosed a note saying that if you could get Hufflepuff out of last place at the end-of-term feast, he'd send another whole crate of Muggle gardening shears—they're much more useful than our silver pruning charms."

Eileen suddenly pointed toward Gryffindor and burst out laughing. "Look! Fred and George are putting Vomiting Charms on Slytherin's pumpkin juice!"

Hailey looked over and, sure enough, saw someone at the Slytherin table suddenly clamp a hand over their mouth and rush toward the bathroom. Draco Malfoy was stamping his feet in fury, only to be silenced by a stern glare from Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore, meanwhile, was leisurely drinking lemon soda, pretending not to see the two troublemakers. The sugar frosting caught in his silver beard sparkled in the candlelight.

"Don't spend all your time laughing," Professor Sprout said, suddenly putting on a stern face, though she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes. "Go to the greenhouse tomorrow morning and pull up ten extra Venomous Tentacula each-call it 'physical training' to celebrate the victory!" With that, she turned and winked at Professor McGonagall. "See? Don't my little badgers know better than your lions how to make steady progress?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head helplessly, though the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. As Hailey watched the professor's robes flutter when she turned, she suddenly remembered what her mother had written in a letter: "True victory isn't about defeating anyone. It's about keeping to your own rhythm." She looked down at the vibranium bracelet on her wrist. Its gears were turning slowly in the candlelight, every groove reflecting the merrily dancing flames.

Eileen suddenly thrust a piece of gingerbread into her hand. A crooked gear had been drawn on it in icing. "Eat up! The kitchen House-elves made it from your design. They said they wanted to thank us for inventing beef curry-now they finally don't have to eat roast potatoes every day!"

Hailey took a huge bite. The gingerbread's spice and the sweetness of the icing burst across her tongue, as if she had swallowed all the excitement she hadn't put into words. She remembered hiding in the attic at Leicester Manor when she had first crossed over, trembling before the fragment of a Prophecy book; remembered the sorry sight she had made when she first lost control of her magic and shattered the crystal chandelier; remembered the novelty of building a magic array out of Muggle blocks in their secret base... Those fragments were like gears, finally clicking into place at this moment.

"Look." Eileen suddenly pointed at the ceiling. At some point, flecks of turmeric yellow had appeared among the scarlet stars. "Our colors are up there too!"

Hailey looked up and saw Hufflepuff's yellow and black interwoven with Gryffindor's red and gold, weaving a warm halo along the edges of the silver and green stars. In the distance, Harry was waving at her, Ron raised his cup of pumpkin juice in salute, and Hermione's smile was especially bright in the candlelight.

The gears of the vibranium bracelet turned again with a crisp sound. This time they were no longer stiff, but moved like a well-oiled precision instrument. Hailey suddenly understood that when her father said "Every gear has its place," he hadn't meant for her to hide in a corner, but to find her own way of fitting together-just as now, her cross-dimensional wisdom, Eileen's spice magic, Harry's courage, Hermione's wisdom, Ron's loyalty, and Neville's perseverance were like countless gears turning out the most beautiful movement of a celebration in the Hogwarts Great Hall.

"Next year," Hailey said, raising her cup of pumpkin juice and gently clinking it against Eileen's. In the clear chime, she heard her own voice, firmer than ever before. "Let's aim higher than third!"

Eileen smiled, her eyes curving into crescents, and a little more turmeric powder fell from her panda hair clip. "No problem! Next year we'll invent a 'point-adding charm,' shine it on Slytherin's score display, and take two hundred points straight off!"

Their laughter mingled with the merriment in the Great Hall, like two stones tossed into a lake, sending out ring after ring of warm ripples. Hailey looked at the miniature pumpkin on her plate, the word "Congratulations" written in vines glowing faintly in the candlelight. Suddenly, she felt that more precious than who won the House Cup were these friendships forged in battle, this laughter shared across houses, and the sound of these gears finally turning in their proper places. Those were Hogwarts' most precious magic.

Outside the window, moonlight passed through the stained glass and cast tiny patches of light on her vibranium bracelet. Hailey gently turned her wrist, and in the click of the meshing gears, she seemed to hear the instruments in her father's laboratory, the bubbling of her mother's ginger tea, and Eileen's laughter in their secret base. All the sounds wove together like an unfinished song—and she knew that her own part of the melody had only just begun.